Fixated
by aliceandmae
Summary: Reminiscing over the only fond memories she can recall, Susan in torn between a world she loathes and the boy she loves. Can she overlook betrayal to find a deeper message hidden within the clutches of her not-so-ordinary life?
1. Chapter 1

It's my twelfth birthday - the only one who seemed to even notice was Caleb. I guess I don't mind, though, because at least it means we don't have to pretend to be a happy family for the day. Dad shot off at 8 in the morning as usual, I noticed he came into my room, but for the sake of avoiding his awkward goodbyes, I laid with my eyes tightly shut, as if today was just another day. I've always hated birthdays - maybe it's something to do with my sudden age growth. Since Mum left it's as if the childlike innocence they so often talk about is just a tiny speck in my pretty boring life.

For a Sunday, it ran like clockwork. We were expected to help the factionless - for others, it would be a drag, but for the Abnegation it's the only thing we know, however, it was my only opportunity to see Caleb, the boy next door who always put others before himself, nothing like his delightful sister who always seemed to forget her smile when she saw me. Of course today was like every other day. He greeted me with the biggest of grins but unusually dragged me aside and cupped my ear with a hand.

"Don't you think that I have forgotten, today is the only day worth remembering." He whispered with a cheeky smirk. His charming efforts to make today seem special were wasted on me as today is Sunday and nothing more.

"You know Caleb, as flattering as it is that you wish to make today so beautiful, we have mouths to feed and the more time we waste speaking of my invisible birthday, the less people we are saving," I shrugged and straightened my grey tunic.

His laugh seemed effortless and stunning, the same as every other time. "Susan, your stupidity does send my head spinning but I'm not going to waste the possible last few birthdays of yours we have together pretending that today is just Sunday."

"Unfortunately Mr. Prior, you do not have a choice in the matter," I raised my eyebrows and scooped a sticky lump of porridge into a ceramic bowl. "Now - chop chop, get feeding."

I was like a machine - repeating the same motion over and over - a pile of oats into one bowl, and another, and another. My arm started to ache, it was like I had porridge running through my veins instead of blood. I hated porridge - it wasn't the taste or the texture (however vile it may be), it was what the porridge represented. I hated the fact that we were forced into helping the factionless - why couldn't Erudite or Candor or Dauntless or Amity do it? I hated the War - why should we just be one thing? Why can't I be intelligent, kind, selfless, honest and brave?

The whole day flew by like a dove soaring back to its young. That's one day gone I will never get back. Another strike of a clock, one more day lost. An inch closer to the day most wish to remember but one I prey to forget. I hate this time, every evening, lying in bed with the whole world in my mind, millions of questions and barely half of an answer.

* * *

_Hello! This is Alice (readmeonemorepage97) and Mae (mallowmarsh4) and we are writing a fic together yay! This our first chap with (hopefully) more to come telling the story of Susan from the Divergent trilogy! woop woop! _


	2. Chapter 2

It's my sixteenth birthday. Soon enough, I will be properly accepted as a member of this society. I don't know what it is - whether it's because the people who so often surround me could possibly soon not be breathing the same Abnegation air as me or whether it's that foul smell that always lingers on my birthday that's making everything slow down.

Only three hours until I take the knife to my palm, 'til I allow one drop of my blood to choose my place in this world. Who would've thought one drop of blood would be so important? I have never understood it; why is blood so significant? Why do we allow one droplet to control how we live the rest of lives? Questions - so many questions. That's all my life has been, every second, every question without an answer and yet I still cannot stop asking. My mum always said I was an inquisitive child, always asking why? How? And now, even with the mum shaped gap moulded into our sofa, I just wonder harder, craving even harder for the answers. One of the main reasons I have spent as many of my seconds possible linked to Caleb's side, he allows me to escape the world I have created in my mind, he allows me for even a single moment to stop asking and to begin living, but then of course that only lasts not even a third of a second before I begin to wonder what living even is? Because what I'm doing right now, that certainly is not living. It can't be.

I am another hour into my future, one hour closer to my impending doom. It's a shame really, I am quite content with the person I am now - why do I have to change? Why should I have to conform - why can't I just be me? Not some silly label forced onto people at the age of sixteen. Me. I find myself pacing, so many steps, in circles, over and over again, each step directly in front of the next, perfectly timed with each tick of the world's ugliest clock that takes centre stage in our living quarters. The mustard bird that hangs so wearily below the brightly orange wooden clock from the oldest piece of grey stained string has been apart of our family for centuries, symbolising nothing but an ugly clock. I find myself distracted again, as my mind travels back to the silver plated blade of the knife.

Pacing - back to pacing. Over and over again. Each foot directly in front of the next. Some would call it an obsession - I call it a necessity. I've always despised order, placement, everything being the same. Each footstep, every breath perfectly in time with the previous. Every person being the same - same clothes, same hairstyles, same thoughts. Living in a world where even our thoughts are the same, to me, it seems like they are the ones with the obsession.

The first second of the final hour slowly ticks its way around the clock, as if it's the only sound in existence. Everything seems to go quiet - all I can hear is the roaring of my burning lungs. My heavy breaths are choking - as if I have just ran ten miles.

In, out. In, out. Right now, that's all I need to remember- in, out, in out.

Throughout my life, the only thing I have had control of was my breathing; right now, my lungs don't feel like my lungs - they feel like someone else's.

Trapped. The grey stained box that I have been living in all my life suddenly seems utterly unrecognisable to me, as if now will be last time it will surround me - impossibly, it makes sense. I was never the most selfless, the most helpful. Actually, I have never been anything.

As each single tick begins to take complete control over my sanity, I find myself heading towards the door - each foot directly in front of the next. Everyone in this box finds themselves pretending as if today is just a day like any other. Dad hasn't even got out of bed for Christ's sake - and Robert, well, I would rather have those ticks of the clock be the only thing I could hear for the rest of my life then know what he is up to.

Air. Fresh air. My mind begins to clear as I see the sky, blue but not sky blue, the type of blue that's full of mystery as if it's the only thing on earth that knows where we are heading. My mind - scattered again, doesn't seem like it can fully comprehend anything, let alone what I am about to face. It is running away - runnning away from anything that makes sense, away from anything of actual importance. That is until I begin to see the Abnegation youth - queuing, pacing, one by one, each step directly in front of the next. Order. It's in that moment of short realisation, I had failed to count the ticks, I forgot to count the seconds. That's all I have been doing, all my life, counting the hours and now, the only time it matters, I had forgotten- wasted on thoughts of nothingness.

My steps race me back into the box, staring face to the face with the mustard bird, exactly 10 minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

Out, out, in out. Endless, out of sync breaths escape my lungs as I can hear the ticks of my final minutes close in on me. The full speed spinning of the world around me makes it hard for my feet to stand still, right now its so much easier to let them fall, let the dead weight of my body drop to nothing -no- falling shows weakness and even though in these moments I'm feeling weaker than I have felt before, I must keep my feet glued to the floor beneath me. My eyes go in and out of focus as if they are slowly giving up on the same grey buildings that have been my beautiful sunset view for sixteen years. Today should be full of celebration, the choosing of your life, of your future. They tell us its our choice, they build us up to this moment to believe this is about us, about the people we want to be. It's not.

I step onto the dark, concrete floor that surrounds my box. I can feel the weakness of my limbs as I see the other smiling teenagers who have been waiting for this moment all of their lives. Every face so different, every movement, every stare, every thought the same. They walk in a regimented line with either parent each side, hand in hand for what could be the last time.

The skies around me begin to turn the same dull, heartless grey as the tall buildings beneath them. I can feel the beginning of the shut down, right up until I see a familiar grin which always seems to turn the grey skies the brightest blue. My feet start to collapse on themselves- failing at their only job just as he grabs my waist. His tight grip around me makes it hard for me not to fall entirely into his arms but his strength holds me upright. My miles away mind flies back to sanity- well as close as it can possibly get. I'm barely stood- relying on Caleb to keep me up for the next few seconds which I wish would last a millennium. As his grip loosens I can see his effortless grin begin to fade- "Susan I know. I know you can do this." Usually his positive outlook makes even the worst seem okay but right now I can barely hear a word he is trying to say. I turn my eyes to the floor as we walk side by side. I can just make out the thin- shapeless outline of Beatrice as she wonders behind us with Robert on her tale. Most of the journey is without words except Caleb's wasted attempts at conversation. The walk is only five minutes long although this road is endless. Each step I take, my chosen faction changes.

Amity- No. Not happy enough.

Dauntless- No. Not brave enough.

Erudite- No. Not smart enough.

Candor- No. Not truthful enough.

Abnegat- No. Not selfless enough.

I'm not anything enough. Where do I fit in? Where do I belong?

As we approach the building we are summoned too, it feels like I'm seeing the world for the first time. Even though I've seen this all before, from a far, being here, surrounded by the people the who make up this mad world makes me feel as crazy as the rest of them. I find Robert a few steps behind Beatrice just before I grab his arm. Caleb and Beatrice go off with their parents as Robert and I are ordered to this first queue we can see. From here I can see everyone, lined up two by two. Parents with their children, children with their parents. Then there's me and Robert. He promised, he promised that for one day he would be the Father he is supposed to be. I don't know why I ever let the thought cross my mind, It's funny really, me and Robert never breath a word to each other and though today is no different, right now, that feels okay. I guess it's good, well for me this is good, to keep our possible last minutes together the same as any other. As the queue shortens, the silence thickens, becoming louder the closer we get. We enter the giant hall with careful steps, one in front of the other. The roars of hundreds of talking families take the thoughts away from my mind- for that I am thankful. We take our seats among a line of other seated abnegations. The space between Robert and I sits emptily, bringing in careful eyes from the family in front. Each leader from each factor gives the exact same speech, just in different words. "This is your choice, this is your life, choose wisely"- Bollocks.

The first name is called.

Martha Aarons. She is just another worthless girl in a worthless world- yet the sadness on her face cuts through me like the silver plated knife sitting silently on the table. The skip in her usual amity step is invisible to the naked eye in these moments. The whole hall goes silent as she drags her body up the steps, falling slightly on the final one. She picks up her dead weight and lunges towards the knife, just as my breaths are stolen from me. Every single being here, right now, in awe of one girl who no one knows, who no one cares about. As she draws the knife against her shaking palm, as her hand waves above the amity bowl, as her blood drops into the burning coal of dauntless, she is already and empty face to a forgotten name. Hundreds of teens, from every faction make their way to the knife. Step by step- left, right, left, right. Almost everyone has stayed 'home', where they believe they belong- every one of them with a face full of regret. You get the odd individual who will leave, like Martha, who wants to find their own way- impossible, there is only ever one way.

So far everyone in abnegation has stayed. Too selfless to see who they really want to be, too weak. All the A's are now done. One group down, twenty-five to go. Suddenly there is a noise from the back, shuffling, apologising. When I turn my head, I see a recognisable face that fills me with emptiness every time I see it. There he is, pushing past everyone in our line, making me visible. Dad sits in the seat between Robert and I without saying a word- the stench of his breath says enough words of its own. I feel so far away, so distant from who I am that this doesn't seem fully real, even though every drop of Scarlett blood proves that it is completely real, and completely wrong.

"Simon Bintley"- three steps, one knife, one drop of blood-"Candor." One more gone.

"Robert Black". My heart sinks- falling further than I thought was possible. As he walks by, ignoring Dad, he grabs my hand, nods his head and walks away. A part of me knows he won't stay. The part of me I tried to hide, wishes he would.

Three steps, one knife, one drop of blood- "Amity". One more gained.

Happiness- the only thing he has ever wanted and I never knew. The sad little boy who forgot how to smile the day our Mother became a stranger- finally seeking happiness. I couldn't be happier for the brother I didn't even know I loved.

"Susan Black"

All the darkness in my small world suddenly lightens as I realise the tiny amount that I actually cared before has turned to nothing. The empty chair at the table made for four, the empty reflection I was never allowed to look at, the empty person behind a face I've only ever glanced at- finally ran out of hope. I make my way past classmates from the past ten years on my life. Past names I don't even know.

Three steps.

Amity- No. Not cheerful enough.

Dauntless- No. Not fearless enough

Erudite- No. Not intuitive enough.

Candor- No. Not honest enough.

Abnega-

One knife.

Who am I? Weren't the test supposed to tell me who I am? Aren't we supposed to trust the test? Then where do I belong? I find myself staring at each bowl with empty eyes. This means nothing.

One drop of blood.

Sixteen wasted years, for one worthless day. I don't want to be in one place for the rest of my life. I don't want one faction. I want the world.

"Abnegation".

This was certainly not an act of selflessness, only weakness.

One more forgotten.


End file.
